


Hero Worship

by j_marquis



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Just smut, M/M, PWP, SMUTTY SMUT, Smut, Throat Fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 16:28:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11211852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_marquis/pseuds/j_marquis
Summary: Some liquor and a one night stand





	Hero Worship

Nyx wanted to be a hero. More than anything he wanted to be a hero, he wanted to be among heroes, he wanted to be one of the golden and celebrated members of the Guard and the Glaive, those storied soldiers who stood alongside the king.

Like Cor.

Cor the Immortal, Marshall Cor Leonis, Cor the hero. Cor the, well, the everything Nyx had ever wanted to be. Who had come to this with no title, no name, no family history of serving the king, no family history, no family to speak of. Come to this just like Nyx, out of desperation and need and a drive to be something better, bigger than himself.

Cor the, if Nyx had to admit it to himself, beautiful.

Who drank by himself in the late hours of the night where it was almost morning at the same liquor fueled shithole Nyx frequented with his friends. Nyx waited until the others had wandered off, something about taking Libertus to a strip club, and he helped himself to the seat beside the man he so idolized.

"Ulric, isn't it?"

"Nyx." He raised his glass. "Am I intruding?"

"Not at all." Cor tapped his glass with his own, downed the rest of his drink in one smooth go. "Care to share a drink with an old soldier?"

"I don't see any old soldiers here." Nyx teased, easy, the flattery came smooth to his lips. "Just young ones in desperate need of another drink."

It brought a small smile to Cor's lips. "Age is not always measured in years. People like you, like me, we have lived longer than some old men."

Drinking together was easy. Following Cor to his apartment in a tipsy haze that reeked of liquor and the heady thickness of want with no strings attached, that was even easier. He let Cor lead, let his rough hands tangle in his hair, pull him back, move him. They were fighters when they kissed, tangling together, Nyx bit at his lips, Cor responded with a takeover of his mouth, tongue penetrating, trapping him against the door of the small apartment the second they got inside. Nyx heard the lock click behind him and he understood what he had thrown himself into without thought. He would worship this hero he so admired, a connection, a chance to see that this hero was a man. Just a man, gasping into their filthy, unrestrained kisses, yanking at his clothes and pulling him toward the main room.

They toppled onto the sofa, Nyx on top of Cor, in a moment of confidence he pulled his shirt off, let it fall to the side and dove back into Cor, kissing his jaw, his neck, his throat, letting his teeth scrape over his hammering pulse. And Cor's rough hands palmed over his bared skin, drew them together, moved his hips up against Nyx, showed him, viscerally, his wants.

Nyx cursed, bit down against Cor's shoulder, yanking at his shirt and stripping it from his skin, barely looking before he was sliding to his knees, seeking to finish stripping Cor down. A few scars caught his eye, he ran his tongue along one, eyes casting up to Cor, seeking permission. He wanted to taste him, to drink in the swell of arousal he could feel, against his hand, his cheek, but not see.

Cor groaned, a filthy, drawn out sound, and he pushed Nyx into his erection, fumbled at the hem of his pants, stripped himself bare. And he was large, standing tall and full and aroused and Nyx's mouth went dry. He wanted it. He wanted to taste it, to feel that swollen cock push against the back of his throat, he wanted to swallow it down, he wanted to push Cor to use him, to take him, to have his mouth as he saw fit. It gave him a near orgasmic thrill, to feel that, to be nothing more than a willing mouth for his lovers to have.

Cor didn't need to be told. He was relentless, guiding Nyx where he wanted him, pushing in, holding his head, pulling on his hair, near growling with pleasure when Nyx brought his tongue into it, tracing along the thick shaft when it thrust in and out of his mouth, stilling at the back of his throat and forcing him to swallow and that brought an outright moan from Cor, something that might have been an attempt at calling Nyx's name.

Or a warning, Nyx realized, when he felt Cor's orgasm building, his hips unsteady, his thrusts deeper, he didn't care about hurting Nyx, not anymore, and Nyx relished in the bits of pain, the tears he felt stinging at the backs of his eyes as precum and spit dripped down his chin and his hands clenched in Cor's bare, scarred thighs. He didn't ask about the scars. That wasn't his place, not tonight, His place was to bring pleasure, and to find it, if Cor offered.

And to swallow the ejaculate that spilled down his throat, leaking at the corners of his mouth as Cor pulled out slowly, bent to gently raise Nyx's head, swipe his thumb along his lower lip.

"Gods, you look good like this." He smiled, his blue eyes casting over Nyx with something not unlike adoration. "What can I do to thank you?"

Nyx hardly heard his own voice, it was hoarse, desperate, wanting. "Whatever you want."

**Author's Note:**

> aftepes.tumblr.com


End file.
